A Girl Called Love
by xx-Prophecies-xx
Summary: This is a story about Amor -Love-. Taken from her home town in australia to St Vladimirs because her parents were once strigoi, then healed by a spirit user. Story gets a little less complicated with time first fanfic, Naughty chapters throught, enjoyx


Sneaking out of a dorm guarded by Half Vampire Half Human adults with large sharp pointy skewers designed to go through all the crap protecting the heart, is probably not a good idea. Probably not a good idea, but that is no reason to not do it. If you're following me.

I was new to this school, to this country even. I had never been out of my small home city in Australia, knew nothing of the world, and why? The only thing I was told was that I was 'too special to be in a place like _that_.' I was always told this on a regular basis while walking around the city. Casual glances by men my way would soon turn to glazed over looks and drool cornering the side of their mouths. I was embarrassingly flattered, but never thought too much of it 'men' I told myself constantly. I had an unusual amount of friends for a nerd-head. I had AP subjects in four of my six hours in school.

First hour- AP Macroeconomics  
Second hour- AP Microeconomics  
Third hour- AP French Literature  
Fourth hour- Culinary Arts  
Fifth hour- AP Art History  
Sixth hour- Physical Education

It was a terribly challenging schedule, but I made to with what I had, and what I had was a mind that could solve more than one equation at a time and photographic memory. A group of people followed me relentlessly, when I questioned why, they replied with 'I don't know, I feel an urge to guard and protect you.' It was weird, but funny when a girl in a skirt barely covering her... behind, would act all graciously towards me, although it was no act. Any little thing I needed would be granted to me without a question, even things I didn't know I wanted. It was pleasing, but I suppose a little unnerving how people could be so persuaded into anything I wanted. I got gifts from teenage boys daily; flowers, head-bands and general jewellery. At one stage last year, I think I had gotten a wedding ring. I had opened it up at lunch time in the cafeteria with my friends, and much to their amusement –and agreement- I handed the present to a friend sitting next to me.

My high school was different to other private ones; we had no set school uniform. This didn't mean you could flaunt any type of clothing –or nothing. Men had to wear ties with their outfits and long pants; woman had to wear skirts and ties. I enjoyed the freedom of dress and loved experimenting with the endless amount of clothes inside my closet at home. I was an only child to my parents, 'a one off' as they so well put it. My parents didn't really have _jobs_, they were more family orientated. We were abundantly wealthy to even my schools standards and from what I could get out of my parents, it was because they were evidently close to someone in a royal family. I asked if this royal family came from their backgrounds; my mother was a mix of Scottish and Turkish, while my father was Russian. My mum replied with 'something like that,' and smirked at my dad. I shrugged and dropped the conversation, quickly exiting the living room before they started on their regular make-out moments.

I was dressed up real nice that day for school. I had on a white formal dress shirt with long sleeves, the cuffs on the ends were undone and so were the first three buttons and the last two buttons on my shirt. I had a purple and black plaid vest which fit nicely and emphasised my voluptuous body, a matching ruffled skirt finishing a few inches above my knees. My shoes were timeless black Mary-janes but had a three inch heel, and finishing the look were knee length white socks that had cute purple bows on the back. I was feeling absolutely gorgeous and was liking the effort I put into my outfit for school. I had my waist long black hair pulled back into a messy styled pony tail, and decided to top it all off with some smoky gray eye-shadow, which made my light blue eyes pop out on my very lightly-tanned skin.

Don't get me wrong, I loved dressing up, and I knew I could pull it off. I just never gave two thoughts about it for school, though. Today was different. It was my seventeenth birthday and I wanted to be up to par with the rest of the female students in my school. I quickly checked my mouth for tooth paste stains in the floor length mirror inside my bathroom, before departing quickly through that and out of my baron, overly-large room. My heels clicked along the tiles leading towards the kitchen and before I even made an appearance my dads' voice stopped me dead in my tracks, "Don't even think about coming into the kitchen without that skirt at least three more inches longer, Love." Dad had a very soft voice for a man of his size. Well over six foot three my father was incredibly strong, but had a lean body and his muscles where well hidden. His Russian accent was incredibly light, barely there after not being in Serbia for more than eighteen years.

My eyes widened in shock.

"How do you know how long my skirt is?" I asked sceptically. Although I was terrified of my dad –who wouldn't be if you saw his hard, stony eyes? I was not about to give him the pleasures of besting me.

"I couldn't hear the rustle from the skirt swinging against your knees while you walked Love, it's a very easy thing to pick up on." His voice was matter-of-fact, but there was something bugging me about what he said...

"How can you hear the rustle of a skirt, when I am in a hall way across the house from you?" I was joking half-heartedly, not paying much attention to what I was saying, but more about how to win this contest.

There was a cold silence while he contemplated my words. I was still standing exactly where I stopped, planning to turn straight around and change to a nuns dress when my dad finally answered after a two minute silence.

"You're in a hallway Love, sound echoes. Come here and get some breakfast."

A breath I didn't know I was holding rushed out of my mouth and I continued walking towards the kitchen. I never found it hard to wear high heels, I manoeuvred quite well in one, and as I made my way to the kitchen table-top where my dad was cooking I made this quite clear when I ran blindingly fast straight into my fathers' chest. He wrapped one arm around my shoulders, while I hugged mine around his waist. He gave a slight restrained chuckle and kept most of his attention on the black loaf of bread he was cutting. I wrinkled my nose at the smell coming straight for me and retreated to the safety of the bench on the other-side. I slid on high bar stool and placed a palm under my chin looking around the kitchen.

It wasn't overly flamboyant I suppose, it could be worse. The bench which the food was prepared and cooked on was a 'U' shape with a gray marbled table-top. The floors were white tiles like the rest of the house and the walls had small pebbled stones covering the two corner walls the kitchen was neatly placed in. All the appliances were conveniently placed in shelves that were hidden inside the walls, my parents were anything if not paranoid, and always rambled on about how someone could come into the house and kill you with a toaster while you slept if it wasn't hidden away. After that strange talk when I was ten, I always put the toaster in its hidey cabinet after usage.  
My dad gave me a knowing look from the corner of his eye as he arranged my toast with butter and vegemite spread. He slid the plate over the bench top towards me when he was finished and I bent over the plate and picked a slice of toast and eyed him suspiciously. Everything was quiet. My house was never quiet, because of my mum. My mum was never quiet. Mum was missing. All these things went through my head in the space of a second and I quickly looked up at dad, pleading him to stop anything she had planned.  
He chuckled under his breath and leaned towards me over the counter, whispering softly.

"You can't stop it Amor, you have over twenty family members waiting for you at the front of the house. Before that though, here is my gift to you. Happy birthday." Dad handed me two small boxes. Both were black velvet but different shapes and sizes. One was quite flat but large and wide, the other was a small square shaped box. I opened the lid to the flat box and peered in. There was a small purple and black plaid tie sitting on white silk, already tied up waiting to be placed under my collar. A huge grin broke out across my face and before either of us could register it, the tie was already in place completing my over all look. I was up, out of my stool and looking at my distorted reflection in the stain-less steel refrigerator when dad handed me my other present. I absentmindedly pulled it open and glanced down. Sitting on more white silk were two beautiful bulky titanium rings, flattened on the top and rounded at the sides. On the top of one was the family crest on my mothers' Scottish side; Hathaway. On the other ring what looked like two lightning bolts crossed over into an 'X' decorated it. I had seen countless ones of these on the back of my mothers and fathers necks, tattooed along with a few stars and a large dominant tattoo at the top of the neck.  
My eyes began to tear up, and I hastily battered them before the water works flooded my make-up. I couldn't even look at my dad, and I hastily kept my eyes plastered to my shiny black Mary-janes.  
"Do you like them Love?" My dads' voice was questioning, he was out of his depths with this situation, and that one thought made my smile come straight back and I looked up into his eyes and mouthed thank you. My throat wasn't obviously working, still choked up by the weird, but very thoughtful gift. Dad gave me a hug and said in a sad voice.

"Sometimes things don't go how you want it to, and we may be separated physically or emotionally. But if you place the rings on each of your fourth fingers you will always remember that you have a family right here that love you, even if you're physically separated. Emotionally... well it'll help as well, almost heal your mind of the wrong that you're feeling. We both love you, Love."  
I gave dad an even tighter hug before I mumbled that I had to go to school. He released me and said my car was around the back of the house, to go to it and drive to school and he will deal with mum and the family. I rushed out of the kitchen quickly grabbing my vegemite toast and snatching my mail-bag like carrier and hustled out the back door. The air was crisp and cold, burning my nose as I inhaled. I unhooked the keys attached to my bag and made my way over to the vintage black buggy. My thin heels kept piercing into the soil under the grass, so I started hopping along the lawn on my tip-toes looking like an absolute fool. Vegemite toast placed safely into my mouth, I unlocked the drivers' door on the right hand side and slipped in swiftly. The smell of nail polish and hair spray overwhelmed my sensitive nose and I had the windows down and aircon blasting before the cars engines revved to life. The interior was nothing like the outside of the car. While it was pitch black with dark tinted windows, the inside was snow white, with delicate stitching of cherry blossoms over the cream cow hide. I hit the gas pedal and sped around the driveway that led to the front gate of the house, waving absently to the family staring after me and my mum fuming in the corner and my fading figure. Before I had hit the road, the gears were on six and I was hitting a hundred and twenty kilometres in no time at all.  
School was going to be great.


End file.
